


Back at your door

by Alex_E



Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 20:36:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18199019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex_E/pseuds/Alex_E
Summary: Yon-Rogg finds Carol and breaks into her house.





	Back at your door

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to JA for the smut.

She is here or well she was here.  
He found her, or well he found out where she was staying. It has taken him two long years to find a trace leading back to her.  
In the meantime he has taken out several bounty hunters and even some Starforce soldiers. The Kree don't forgive betrayal.

He’s been on Terra for a while keeping a low profile. All he has to do is wait. She will return here. It is easy for him to blend in especially now that he’s taken to wearing the inferior terran apparel.  
A black button up and a jeans that is surprisingly comfortable. He even obtained sunglasses to hide his eyes after finding out they drawed too much attention to him. 

Stalking out the residence he wonders how he got to this point. Everything had been so clear before, he’d thought he knew what he wanted in being a commander make his father proud. But since the failed mission, since Vers, and everything that had happened between then and now had called that into question. He was disgraced, cast out and alone, so terribly, terribly alone. 

He finds the key to the backdoor underneath a “welcome home” mat and lets himself into the house. He is appalled by the terran’s concept of security. If the Kree ever wanted to expand the empire, they could conquer this planet within mere hours.

He made a general survey of the bottom floor before calling up the stairs. “Vers?" There wasn't an answer, there wasn't even any creaking in the ceiling that suggested she was upstairs. He walked around with a strange calm. A faint beating was rising in his head, but he ignored it.

Vers's kitchen was remarkably clean. Cleaner than the clean that her neurotic personality usually had the time to achieve. If he didn't know better, he would have thought that it hadn't been used in years.

He didn't bother looking further; he knew the house would be empty.

He wonders what she was doing here in this dingy house in the middle of the woods. He can see her coming here and hide Skrulls perhaps even cook for them. He smiles at the thought, this locatication is so remote no one will come looking. He has to give her credit for that. She must be trying pretty damn hard to convince herself that she should be doing the right thing. 

He questions since when did the right thing involve being apart from the one you knew you should really be with. He knows what is meant to be, if there really is such a thing. And he's sure she knows it too.

She turned away from all that was a part of their lives. He wonders if she'll be happier this way.  
He sure isn’t. 

He snaps out of his thoughts as he can feel her behind him. How he's not heard her creep up on him is alarming. He takes a deep breath and slowly turns around.

Her eyes are murderous like the first he saw her. Hand on her weapon ready to send them both to the collective. He remembers that was exact moment he fell in love with her, strands of gold hair had fallen in her face and her stance defiant as ever. He couldn't help but to look at her, she looked beautiful.

When suddenly her hand flies out, he flinches, thinking that she’ll slap him across the face, but her hand connects with his shoulder and shoves him backwards so forcefully he loses his balance.

“Vers..“

“Shut up,” she snaps, fingers twisting around the collar of his shirt as she draws the length of her body to along his. The grate in her voice is fueled by anger, but he can hear the scrape of desperation mixed in the words that fan out against his jaw, white hot and spreading.

The tips of her fingers brush along his collarbone and her gaze flicks up to his, their eyes meet briefly. It’s enough, though enough to ignite a spark he didn’t even knew existed until this moment.  
He kissed her with everything he has in him, with everything that’s been stirring in him for years, everything that’s been unfulfilled.

Suddenly, he’s pulling her towards him, a hand flying to the back of her neck and drawing her closer, bending her head towards his own so that their lips meet in a clash of teeth and hot breath that sends a shiver down his spine. His fingers curl into the wisps of gold hair at the nape of her neck, and it’s all he can do to refrain from groaning when the tips of her nails drag along the back of his head.

The kiss is hardly perfect. It’s wet and sloppy and frantic, with an undercurrent of anger that’s probably not healthy, but neither can gather the strength to push away or pull back. If anything, it draws them in deeper, that tiny spark of fury that’s suddenly a full blown flame between them, prompting shaking hands and scrambling fingers to pull at zippers and tug at buttons, to slip out of sleeves and toss it to the floor. Mouths stray, his slipping along the long column of her neck marking her. He feels her teeth gently scraping his collarbone.

The moment he steps out of his jeans, he slips a hand under her thigh and hoists her up, her legs wrapping around his waist long enough for him to switch them around so that she’s the one pressed against the wall. Her back collides with it hard enough that it knocks a picture off the wall. It’s the sound of the frame cracking and the glass shattering that snaps him back into a reality that isn’t fueled by desperation and desire.

Yon looked up and she was watching him so closely, so intently, and he was exposed, flaws and all, unable to hide. He should have been mortified instead he pressed her closer.  
His gaze moves to her swollen lips kissed raw by his own and he swallows hard. “Vers..“

“Don’t,” she whispers with a shake of her head. “Please Yon. I need…..“

This.

You.

He doesn’t know what the final word is because he doesn’t care. He meets her mouth somewhere in the middle, the kiss slower, a little less aggressive but no less heated. His tongue drags along her lower lip slowly and she angles her head, opening her mouth. Hands move slower, with purpose, drawing out little gasps and long moans with each touch, pinch, scrape. What little fabric remains between them is discarded easily enough, kicked off into some dark corner of an already semi-dark room without much flare or effect or effort, really.

She slides a hand down the center of his chest, fingers wrapping around him and guiding him into her until there’s nothing left between them. For a moment, there’s silence, halted breaths still caught in their throats until she exhales, the air flooding into his mouth. If he wasn’t dizzy already he would be now. It’s cliché, sure, but this is different than before.  
He was dishonest and he was wrong, sure. But it hadn't felt that way when he ran his hands through her hair, when she sighed softly into his ear. Blowing off steam after their training sessions and missions. It’s deeper than that, it’s personal now, and that makes all the difference.

The heels of her feet press into the base of his spine, digging deeper with each thrust. Short and shallow, long and deep, there’s no pattern or rhythm to the snap of their hips, just the gentle slapping of flesh on flesh as he fucks her against the wall. 

When she starts to slip down the wall, she hooks her arm around his shoulder to keep herself upright and it’s that little motion that makes him lock eyes with her. He doesn’t break contact when she moans, and she can’t help but smile when she clenches around him, drawing out a long suffering groan.

She tells him, harder, and he obliges. She’s so hot and slick that he doesn't need much more encouragement. 

His mouth latches onto the exposed skin, pacing wet, open-mouthed kisses that grow more and more frantic as his thrusts become more urgent. The hand on her hip slides over the top of her thigh and angles downward as he reaches between them, the pad of his thumb finding her clit and teasing. Her entire body tenses and her breathy “fuck” is lost on him. He feels her nails are digging deep into his back drawing blood and it’s all he can do to not come right then and there.

She’s barely breathing, just panting out little gasps, grinding against him and his fingertips with everything she’s got until she cries out and she slams her head back against the wall. Her body goes rigid with tension, every muscle clenched tightly, her heels digging hard into his back now.

She stares up at the ceiling, all glassy eyed and panting, each heavy exhalation a driving force behind his thrusts, which grow shallower and more abrupt until he comes a few seconds later.

Unwilling to let her go Yon- Rogg allows himself to cling to her just for this moment. He strokes the hair from her neck so he can trace the vivid bite marks he left on her skin. Stillness gives way to motion as they disentangle from one another, collecting clothes, slipping into them.

He wants to ask, beg, get on his knees for her anything for her to come back, but when their eyes meet again, it's gone.  
That fire, that heat….it's vanished, replaced by a sadness that would be heartbreaking if he didn't see it in himself every day in the mirror. He knows he fucked up… he knows.  
He knows there really is no hope for a happy ending.  
He just wants her, he doesn't care what the consequences are because he's pretty sure all of them have already exploded in his face.

The way he sees it, it can't get much worse so he calls for her anyway “Vers…. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, tripping over his words.

He’s met by silence. 

And in the silence he breaks.

She turned around to face him. Reaching out, she laid a hand on his arm. Her face softened, His eyes had grown moist as she looked into them, and his face had lost all composure crumpled with tears strong emotions and apology, love and regret.

And she smiled. A bright, warm, loving smile. Her eyes locked fully on his, and she…smiled.

“Yon…...

call me Carol.”


End file.
